


The Marauder's Games

by ALsannan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Gen, Harry Potter Next Generation, Next-Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-17 11:33:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5867689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALsannan/pseuds/ALsannan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Marauder's Map sits in a desk drawer in Harry’s office for a good three years before he can’t take it anymore. This is his father’s legacy. It was made to be used.</p><p>Also…it’s really cool.</p><p>But who to give it to? </p><p>He has three equally deserving kids, and he’s not the only child of the Marauders left either, not to mention it was the Weasley twins who gave it to him in the first place and their relatives are currently littered all over Hogwarts. </p><p>It’s not like he can just hand it over. He’s a big believer in earning the things you get. There’s a lesson to be learned here. He has a responsibility.   </p><p>Plus—this sounds like way more fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I've never written Harry Potter fanfic before, but I've read a lot of it, so I'm going to give it a shot. 
> 
> This story is mostly going to be set at Hogwarts, centering around the next generation as they embark on a scavenger hunt/tournament to win the Marauder's Map. I think there's some interview somewhere where J.K. Rowling said Harry never gave the map to his kid's but they stole it out of his desk drawer and, frankly, I just can't accept that. But, I also hate that whole 'oldest child inherits' thing (I'm the youngest, can you tell?) so instead I figure let's give all the assorted Potters and Weasleys a shot. And Lupin. Because obviously.
> 
> I messed around with the ages a bit because I wanted to fit in as many kids as possible. Sadly, I couldn't find a way to age Lily and Hugo in without changing the timeline too much. They might show up later, but they won't be at Hogwarts. 
> 
> All characters and relationships listed in the tags are subject to change.

“Hey kids. How’s school going?” 

Harry Potter looked around as he entered the empty classroom where he’d asked his relatives to meet him. He was a bit early but some of them were there already; James was lying flat across the teacher’s desk at the front of the room with his feet propped up on a model of the universe. Beside him, Albus and Rose were flicking a piece of parchment back and forth while Roxanne kept score. Fred was sitting on the nearby window frame and, unnoticed by Albus, using his wand to guide the parchment through Rose’s goal post every time she signaled him under the table. 

They all looked up when he entered and, as in every other situation ever, James immediately started speaking before anyone else could get a word in edgewise. 

“School’s—”

“James, I already know how school is going for you.” Harry cut in with his best attempt at a stern look. “Neville’s letters paint a pretty clear picture. Between that and Binns...” he shook his head ruefully, “I must be the first parent to get a letter home from a ghost.”

“About that…” James started.

“I mean, just the amount of time it would have taken—”

“It wasn’t my fault!” James protested. 

“He can’t hold a pen! He had to float around, find someone willing to write a seven page long letter—”

“Well, he’s always been a bit long-winded,” Fred pointed out fairly. 

“Seven double-sided pages—” 

“Father,” James cut him off with a suddenly serious tone. Behind him, Rose snorted. “I fear we’re veering off topic. I think I would be remiss in letting my reprehensible behavior distract you from the duty you have come here to dispense…”

“I grew up with your Aunt Hermione, James.” Harry reminded his son, “Big words aren’t going to distract me. Stop messing around in Binn’s class or your mother and I are going to paper this school with howlers reciting every nickname your Grandma Molly has ever given you.”

Harry tried his best not to laugh at the look of sheer terror on his son’s face. 

In the sudden silence (as James was, presumably, too paralyzed with terror to speak) Harry said, “but you are right. I did come here for another reason.”

Just then the door to the classroom opened. Teddy Lupin strode in. 

“Harry! Hi, what brings you here?” he questioned as he walked over to shake Harry’s hand, ruffling the top of James hair as he passed. James stuck his tongue out behind Teddy’s back. 

“I was just getting to that—” Harry started but was cut off as the door to the classroom opened again. 

“Hi Uncle Harry!” A cheerful voice called and all turned to see Victoire, followed closely by her younger siblings, Dominique and Louis. Both girls immediately gave Harry a hug. Louis offered him a stiff handshake, which he had to bend down to accept. 

Victoire went to perch herself on top of the desk Teddy was sitting at, ruffling James hair on her way past him, eliciting an affronted “pssht!” Louis gave him a look of solidarity. Dominique giggled as she shoved Fred aside on the window ledge so she’d have room to sit.

“What are you up to?” Victoire asked Harry as everyone settled back to listen. 

“I mean, not that I’m not happy to see you,” she continued, “but this is kind of out of the norm.” Suddenly, her face brightened, “Are you finally going to show us how to get into Honeydukes? Because Cress’s birthday is coming up…” 

“I don’t think the birthday of one of your lemmings is at the top of Uncle Harry’s priorities, Vee,” Dominique mocked her sister. Teddy snickered and reached behind him for a high five, which Dominique returned just as Victoire opened her mouth to retort. 

Harry raised a hand, and they all fell silent, though Victoire shot her sister a look.

“No Victoire, I didn’t come to show you the way into Honeydukes. I came to give you a chance to earn it. I’m not going to show you the passage…but something else will.”

The change in the room was immediate. Albus straightened up in his chair. James narrowed his eyes at his father, a mixture of intrigue and accusation playing across his face. A small smile grew on Louis’s lips just as Teddy, who’d been balancing on the back legs of his chair, fell forward with a clatter. 

“You don’t mean…” Roxanne murmured with awe, her voice trailing off. All of them looked at their uncle with stunned wonder. 

Then, Fred stood up and whooped.

“Finally!” He laughed, hurrying forward to clap James on the shoulder. “I told you he’d give it to us eventually James, I told you.”

And with that, they all suddenly burst forth into laughter and noise. Grins were exchanged, arguments immediately breaking out about who could do what and when, chairs scraping backward as everyone rushed around in excitement. Only Rose and James didn’t moved.

It was awhile before the room was quiet enough to be heard in. The kids, having worn themselves out celebrating, all settled back in their chairs full of excitement. Only Rose stood up this time.

“What do you mean…earn it, Uncle Harry?” She asked. 

Her voice was quiet but it carried. The laughter stopped. The smiles faded, a little. Albus and Fred both gave her incredulous looks, but Rose’s gaze never wavered from her uncle’s face. 

Harry smiled, a twinkle of excitement in his eye, “Very good, Rose. You really are your mother’s daughter, you know.”

“I know,” Rose grinned at her uncle ruefully, “and that’s how I can tell I’m not going to like what you have to say next.”

“What are you talking about?” Albus burst out. “The Marauder’s Map! We’ve all been talking about it since the first time we ever heard about Hogwarts! We’ve waited our whole lives for Dad to finally hand it over!”

“But he’s not about to hand it over,” Rose told Albus patiently, before looking back at her uncle, “are you Uncle Harry?” 

“No, Rose. I’m not going to hand it over.” There was a collective groan before Harry continued… 

“I’m going to give you a chance to win it.”


	2. The Beginning

“What are you talking about Harry?” Teddy asked slowly.

“Well Ted, adulthood is boring.” Harry smiled at the mingled looks of surprise an incredulity on their faces. Oh, the young. 

“Now, don’t get me wrong, boring is vastly preferable to the life I had before—constantly fending off attempted murder and whatnot—but still: boring. And Ginny won’t let me get a griffin, so I’m forced to go elsewhere for entertainment.”

The kids blinked at him. 

“Besides,” there was a wistfulness in his voice when he said, “Getting up to a bit of mischief, getting caught out after hours, making a mess of things with your friends; that’s what Hogwarts is supposed to be like. I’d hate to think of my kids never getting to know this place the way I did.”

“So give the map to me and Albus,” James put in, “your kids.” 

Dominique threw a ball of parchment paper at James’ head. Fred scoffed. Rose mumbled, “traitor.”

“It’s not that easy James. You and Albus aren’t the only people with a claim to the map. For one thing, Ted’s father Remus was one of the makers.”

Teddy, who had been paying close attention to Harry, glanced down, trying to hide his face as he felt the sympathetic stares. 

Harry moved on quickly, “not to mention it was your Uncle George…and Fred…who found the map and gave it to me. Maybe George’s kids should have it.”

Fred and Roxanne perked up. 

“Besides that,” Harry continued, “All of you have gotten up to a fair amount of mischief on your own.” A few of the cousins exchanged half guilty half satisfied smirks with one another. “I have no doubt that each and every person sitting in this room could do some considerable damage with this map in their hands.” Several of them smirked. 

Harry coughed, “I mean, not damage. Do not do any damage.”

Nine identically evil grins greeted him. Somehow, they all seemed to have inherited some sort of Weasley-twin-plotting-face. Even Teddy. 

“Obviously, as an adult and a parent I don’t sanction any of you breaking any school rules. Or doing anything out of bounds.”

“Except you totally do,” James smirked. 

“Well. I didn’t say so.” Harry was careful to make this distinction, just in case this conversation was some day repeated word for word to Ginny or Hermione. 

“But you do.”

“My point is,” Harry continued, “Everyone here deserves a shot at the map. It wasn’t meant to sit in a drawer. We may not all technically be Weasley’s or Marauder’s but we are all the Magical Mischief-Makers the Marauder’s were thinking about when they made this map and…” he looked around at them, listening to him intently, and finished “…and we are all family.” 

It was a touching moment. Harry thought all of the kids looked particularly touched. In fact, he thought he was probably their favorite uncle after this. Not that that was why he’d come up with it, of course. 

“Er, Uncle Harry?” 

The touching moment was broken by Fred. 

“Uh,” his nephew started, “that’s really cool and all, but…you’re down a couple of Weasleys.”

Harry, who had been hoping no one would notice this, mumbled, “right. About that…”

“Lucy’s in charms right now, where I’m supposed to be. I could go run and grab her,” Victoire offered brightly. 

“Well that’s not…” 

“Does anyone know what Molly has this period?” Roxanne asked.

“Hm, Runes I think?”

“Ugh. Can we tell her later?” Dominique griped. “That’s at the top of north tower.”

“I actually think it would be better…” 

“Frankly, I can’t be arsed.” 

“She is your cousin, James Potter!” Victoire scolded. 

“I don’t see you volunteering!” 

Sensing things were rapidly getting beyond his control, Harry spoke over both of them. “Now just hang. on. one. minute!”

They stared. 

Now that he’d gotten all of their attention, Harry found himself somewhat less eager to speak. 

“Well…I just. I mean obviously it isn’t…special treatment…all involved, just…you know, a certain disapproval…wouldn’t want to get into trouble with…I mean he’s just so strict….”

No one said anything. They looked at each other. 

Teddy started to laugh. 

“What?” Albus reached over and poked his shoulder as Teddy exchanged a knowing look with Victoire. Understanding passed over her face. 

“Oh!” Rose cried as she figured it out. She giggled into her hand. 

“What is it?” Albus asked her, “I don’t get it!”

“Don’t worry Uncle Harry,” Victoire said after she’d stopped laughing, “we won’t tell Uncle Percy on you.”

Harry grimaced at her as they all exchanged amused looks. 

“Lucy wouldn’t either,” Fred said.

“Yeah,” Teddy agreed, “but…maybe we should leave Molly out of this one.”

“Not that we don’t trust her—”

“I don’t trust her.” Victoire cut Dominique off. 

“She is your cousin Victoire Weasley!” James mocked, in a high-pitched imitation of Victoire’s voice. She narrowed her eyes. 

“Molly’s the one who told Aunt Ginny where your Cornish pixies were.”

“Let’s not tell Molly.”

“…You were keeping Cornish pixies?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“Victoire was helping!” 

“Isn’t this all in the past?” She smiled her most charming smile. Teddy sat up a little straighter in his chair. Harry suspected her diluted Veela powers were getting a workout. 

“So that’s where the dust came from,” Teddy muttered, sort of dreamily. Harry looked at him. Victoire elbowed him. Teddy quickly shut his mouth. 

“Uncle Harry, you’re a busy man aren’t you?” She laughed, a little nervously, “You don’t want to be wasting your time with these sort of childish antics…”

“Yeah, don’t get me wrong, it’s fun to watch Victoire squirm,” Fred said. She made a rude hand gesture at him. He grinned, continuing, “but I’d rather hear about how I’m going to win the map.”

“Right. Good man, Fred. Down to business. What I’m proposing is…sort of a tournament. For those of you who want to participate, and you certainly don’t have to, but for anyone who wants to win I’ll be setting challenges for you. Ten challenges that will test you on everything from sneakiness to magical ability. Now, completing the challenges won’t be enough…we’re going to go on a points system with points awarded for ingenuity, imagination, daring, cleverness, and humor. Remember, this is supposed to be fun. I want to see you using all your considerable abilities to complete these tasks. Those with the lowest points will be eliminated, until only the winner is left. And don't worry, I know you're all in different years so I won't set anything too hard, but I do expect those of you who know a bit more magic to distinguish yourselves somehow."

"How long is it going to last?" Teddy asked. "Because, if this is a year long tournament, I'm in my seventh year. By the time I've won the map I'll be graduating."

"Of course. I haven't set out a schedule, but it will be around one task a week so don't worry, we should be done before you graduate so you'll have time to put the map to good use. You’ll all have a chance…”

“You have got to be kidding me.” James burst out suddenly, seemingly unable to take it any longer. Harry started. 

“'You'll all have a chance?'" He mimicked with air quotes, "I have been asking, begging, using every persuasion I learned from you, mom, Uncle Ron, Aunt Hermione and Aunt Fleur combined…This map is my birthright! It’s in my blood!”

Harry couldn’t help but note the irony. “Right. I fought a whole war to eliminate that kind of thinking about blood and birthright.” He paused, remembering Binns, “Maybe if you did your History of Magic homework, you would know that.”

“Maybe I would know more History of Magic if you’d let me stay in the kitchen after Uncle George has more than two glasses of firewhiskey”

“What type of persuasion did my mum teach you?” Louis interrupted. 

James blanched.

“I—What?…Listen, that’s not what’s at issue here so…”

“Was it the hair flip?” Victoire grinned at him from across the room “She taught me that one when I turned thirteen too.” James glared.

“Look can we just…” 

“Was it the soft consonants thing?” Dominique spoke over him, an evil glint in her eye “I mean we do that because we speak French, but I suppose it does add a certain purrrrr to your voice…”

“I think we should get back on topic…” James said, a little desperately.

“Makeup tips?” Louis joined in eagerly, looking rather proud of himself.

“Did she teach you how to shimmy your hips?” Dominique asked, catching Victoire’s eye. 

Victoire slipped off the desk and headed towards James with a vicious glee glinting in her eye, saying, “Because let me tell you, you’ve got to be careful with that one, you can dislocate something if you’re not doing it right…”

She was on the point of demonstrating when James appealed to his father, “Dad you want to help me out here” 

Harry looked at his son being pulled halfway out of his seat by his merciless cousin. 

“I don’t know.” Harry told him. You might have to persuade me.”

At the look of pure loathing this response garnered Harry said, “Alright, alright, James is right.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dominique stop, halfway risen out of her chair. “Back to the topic at hand.”

“Yeah, I was right.” James said, looking pleased with himself and throwing a glance to Victoire. 

“Oooh, was that your coy look?” she added waspishly as she took a seat again, but quieted as Harry cast a glance at her.

“Alright, back to the map,” Rose called eagerly. “How exactly do we play this game? What are the rules?”

Harry paused, momentarily stumped. He hadn’t actually gotten that far, but now seemed to be the wrong time to tell them that. 

“Right. Well. Obviously, there are rules.”

James smirked at him. 

“First,” Harry invented wildly, “this should go without saying, no hurting anyone. I know all of you can manage that. Second, you can’t…totally ignore school rules.”

He hadn’t actually intended to say that, but now he definitely couldn’t take it back. 

“I realize some of these might require…creative ways to avoid the teachers, but if I hear about any of you doing something too far out of line or getting any punishment more serious than a detention you’ll be automatically disqualified.” 

“So basically, don’t get caught.” James said. Harry ignored him. 

“Three, I don’t want any cheating. But that said…there is a certain degree of strategy here. Part of playing is playing the other players, but I want you to remember that this is supposed to be fun. If you all start getting into serious fights, I’ll call the whole thing off. Are we clear?”

There was a general murmur of agreement and nodding of heads from everyone but Teddy. 

“What about teams?” he asked.

Harry paused. He took a brief moment to contemplate the terror of his little nieces and nephews banding together to form some sort of unholy alliance of noise and chaos, barreling through the halls of the school.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Teams are acceptable. On a task by task basis.”

“So,” started Fred as Harry felt the air in the room start to shift, the excitement becoming palpable as the reality of the situation sunk in, “when do we start?”

“Wait for my owl.” He told them. “I’ll give you the details of your first mission. But we start right now. As of this moment.” 

He grinned around at them all, “Let the games begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this chapter is just a bit of setup for the story and dialogue heavy, but I had to get it out of the way. The real fun begins soon. Anyway, I hope you like it.


	3. Task One: The Message

**James**

**3:02am**

 

The tap on the window is the last thing he expected.

 

James Potter started in surprise. His father’s owl had found him—in the astronomy tower, where he’d fallen asleep doing his homework. Hermes was good but he wasn’t that good.

 

It was a little…eerie.

 

He pushed a foot beneath him, shuffled to the window ledge. The letter said only one thing…

 

* * *

 

 

**Roxanne**

**10:36am**

Roxanne was really beginning to regret taking divination for a second year.

 

I mean sure, Firenze’s classroom had been _incredibly_ cool. I mean, 10 out of 10 for classroom experience, definitely. She’d even liked that whole burning pine smell when he did it.

 

Now, she was wishing incense and mustard gas shared some of the same properties because honestly it would be worth it, having to be carried out of here, as long as she actually _got out of here_.

 

Trelawney was on hour three of her “trance” and Roxanne’s tea was ice cold.

 

Even worse, she kept sipping it reflexively, gagging every time, because apparently she really was that English.

 

Across from her, her best friend was propped up with a hand on her chin, swirling the dregs of her tea idly then reading the new fortune it told each time. She’d almost forgotten that was the whole point of the tea they were drinking. Roxanne glanced into her own almost empty cup, figuring she should write something down before class was over.

 

The teacup made a tinkling sound as it hit the shelf of china across the room, sending all it’s brethren to the floor in a deafening crash.

 

“My Dear!” Trelawney dropped out of her trance very abruptly. The rest of the class to seemed to be shaking themselves awake, standing from their chairs to get a better look.

 

“What on earth is the matter?” the professor looked very alarmed at this outburst, not to mention offended, probably because the teacup had passed very close to her head. “You’ve disrupted the cosmic energy of the room,” Trelawney adjusted her shawls irritably, sending her many beads clinking and glittering.

 

“I…I don’t…” Roxanne couldn’t find the words.

 

“Well, speak up girl,” Trelawney seemed to be recovering herself, “did you see something? Were the forces of the universe speaking to _you_ during _my_ trance.”

 

“Er…” Roxanne struggled to speak. Across the room, one of her classmates was picking the teacup up off the ground where it miraculously remained perfectly intact amongst the shards of ruined tea sets.

 

“No, wait…”

 

“What’s this mean, then?” The boy—Fletcher? Floyd something? She couldn’t remember exactly—looked at Roxanne, then back down into the cup. Roxanne saw his lips forming the words she herself had seen there, strangely clear, spelled out in tea leaves.

 

She shot across the room, yanking the cup out of his hands.

 

“Nothing.” She said. The rest of the class stared at her, clearly marveling at her strange behavior. “ _Nothing_.” She repeated, looking the boy who’d picked the teacup up straight in the eye. “I thought I saw a spider, that’s all,” she said forcefully, willing him to play along.

 

She was sure he’d seen the words. She’d seen them form on his lips. But he looked at her for a half second longer than he should, a penetrating green gaze and said nothing. She pleaded with him, as best she could without saying a word, not to tell.

 

“Right,” he said finally. “Right,” he repeated to the room at large, turning to face a now very annoyed Trelawney, “just a spider.”

 

“Well then, if you’ll kindly resume your seats,” Trelawney sniffed, “we can get back to the much more important matter of my class…”

 

Roxanne grabbed the cup and headed back across the room as the rest of the class settled down again. Her best friend sent her a questioning look that she ignored as she resumed her seat at their table.

 

Cradling the teacup in her lap she read the tea leaves again and again, though they didn’t make anymore sense than the first time. Finally, she slipped the whole cup into her school bag, careful to avoid Trelawney’s bug like eyes.

 

Trelawney took another forty five minutes to “find the vibrations of the universe” again after the interruption and Roxanne’s classmates threw her many dirty looks that she didn’t notice, preoccupied as she was with the cup…but one look she did feel on her for the rest of the class: a green eyed gaze that stayed fixed, bright in the gloom of the room, until she finally climbed down the silver ladder at the end of the class.  

 

* * *

 

**Rose, Dominique, Albus**

**Noon**

 

“Wait up, Rose!”

 

She flicked her long red hair behind her, watching as Dominique ran to catch up.

 

“Have you had dinner yet?” she called, hurriedly adjusting a stack of books to her other hip.

 

“I was just going to ask you the same thing,” Dominique smiled brightly.

 

Heading into the great hall, they picked up the conversation they’d been having on and off all week, the same conversation all the Weasley kids were having at every opportunity, whispered in the dormitories as they went to bed, scribbled obsessively on spare bits of parchment during class, shouted across the lawn to each other…

 

_What was it going to be?_

 

“I think dragons.” Dominique said, slinging a leg over the bench where Albus was already picking at his shepherd’s pie. A plate appeared in front of her as soon as she sat down.

 

“You’re delusional,” Rose replied, taking the seat across from them, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice while she waited for her food to appear.

 

“And you’re wrong. I’m telling you, it’s going to be dragons. Uncle Harry has a tattoo of a Hungarian Horntail, you know.” Dominique said knowledgably.

 

“He does _not_ ,” Albus laughed.

 

“Does he change in front of you?” Dominique narrowed her eyes at him.

 

“Er…no, but—”

 

“Dragons,” She nodded her head decisively. Rose laughed.

 

Dominique and Albus turned to look at her, both opening their mouths to coax her to their side. Rose waited for the arguments but was surprised. Instead of impassioned defenses of their own opinions, both her cousins remained silent, their gazes traveling a few inches downward.

 

Rose frowned.

 

“Er…Rose?” Albus said.

 

“What?” Rose asked, brow furrowed.

 

But Albus seemed to have said all he was going to say.

 

“What is it?” Rose repeated.

 

“You’re pie,” Dominique said, “it’s…it’s moving.”

 

Rose looked down. In some alarm, she saw that Dominique was right. Her shepherd pie _was_ moving. But that wasn’t the most alarming part. It wasn’t just moving…it was _growing_.

 

“What the…”

 

All three Weasley children pushed back from the table at once. The screeching sound of the benches echoed around the hall and people turned to look at them scrambling across the stone floor.

 

The shepherd’s pie swelled as all three watched in mild horror and equal fascination. Rose realized about a half second to late that it was becoming too top heavy. It tipped.

 

It burst.

 

The hall went completely silent as the now deflated shepherd’s pie went clattering to the floor in its tin plate. Rose blew a pea out of her hair. It did very little to the coating of shepherd’s pie filling that now clung to her and only her.

 

Albus, already on the floor in his mad dash to reach minimum safe distance, died laughing. Slowly, the attention of the rest of the great hall turned away from them, and the noise level went back to normal. Dominique stepped over Albus, rolling around on the floor, and came over to Rose’s side of the table. She picked up the still rolling pie tin and stared at it.

 

“What,” Rose said, her voice loud to be heard over Albus’ howling, “In merlin’s tit was that?”

 

Mutely, Dominique turned the pie tin over, showing the bottom of the now hollowed out crust to Rose.

 

There, baked into the bottom so well it was nearly black, was a message.

 

Albus, finally sitting up, wiped a tear from his eye. He observed his two cousins staring mutely at each other with a soggy pie tin in between them. He coughed.

 

“What’d I miss?”

 

* * *

**  
**

**Victoire and Lucy**

**2:24pm**

 

By the time Victoire finally caught up with Lucy she was the sixth cousin to tell her the news. Happy to get this out of the way and move on to other topics (namely, how best to sneak fire whiskey to the back-to-school bonfire in the forbidden forest) the girls were walking along, chatting happily, in a deserted corridor near the battle of Hogwarts memorial wing.

 

“Oh, Victoire dear!”

 

She stopped. She looked at Lucy, who shrugged her shoulders, seeming to indicate she hadn’t spoken. She looked around her.

 

Empty. The corridor was empty.

 

“Sweetheart, over here!”

 

She turned, again. Lucy, too, looked from side to side in alarm. Both girls turned on the spot.

 

There was no one there.

 

“Here! Over here!”

 

Victoire peered at the ground, knowing better than most that the things that spoke in a sort of fussy, distinctly human, old ladyish voice at Hogwarts could not always be counted upon to be at eye-level. Lucy checked the ceiling for Peeves.

 

“Well, honestly, I’m not up there!”

 

Victoire took a few steps down the hallways and then smirked. She waved Lucy over.

 

The girls were looking at an absolutely tiny portrait, smaller than the palm of the hand, of a woman who looked like she’d be at home in Marie Antoinette’s barouche box.

 

“How did you know my name?”

 

“Well, I didn’t.” The portrait huffed, fanning herself rapidly. Her fan appeared to be made of ostrich feathers. “I’ve actually just been calling out the name Victoire to every blonde girl in Gryffindor robes who passed by.”

 

Lucy snorted, covering it with her hand. The painting glared at her, waving her fan more rapidly.

 

“Er…why have you been calling my name?” Victoire asked.

 

“Well, dear…” She paused. A tiny painted swan in the painting behind her ruffled it’s feathers irritably. She looked behind Victoire, then leaned forward, cupping a hand around her mouth, “…who’s your friend?”

 

“I’m Lucy.” Lucy introduced herself cheerfully. She held out a hand, then thought better of it.

 

“Lucy _Weasley_?” the portrait asked, arching a delicate eyebrow. The hand had not gone unnoticed.

 

Victoire and Lucy glanced at one another, perplexed.

 

“Yes…”

 

“Oh well, I suppose that’s alright then,” she said, though she continued to throw Lucy icy glances. “I have a message for you. Both of you.”

 

“What? From who?” Lucy asked.

 

“I can’t say.”

 

“When did you receive this message?” Victoire asked.

 

“I can’t say.” She fidgeted with her feather fan, looking rather like the swan.

 

Lucy rolled her eyes at Victoire.

 

“What is the message, can you manage that?”

 

Looking highly affronted, the little painted lady proceeded to relay the strangest assortment of words they’d ever heard.

 

Neither girl could make heads or tails of what she said. Finally, giving up, they linked arms and continued to discuss their weekend plans, the strange message haunting the back of each girl’s mind and the lady from the portrait haunting their footsteps for the next three hallways.

 

* * *

**  
**

**Teddy**

**6:54pm**

“Oh…hey Teddy.”

 

“It’s Ted,” Teddy responded automatically, then wished he hadn’t.

 

Laura Cringle, Head Girl, who he had to work with all year this year smiled brilliantly up at him. He tried to slip by.

 

“Oh right! Ted! Of course!” Laura shifted slightly, blocking the door to the Head bathrooms. Teddy was hoping his current smell would be enough to shift Laura, as he clearly needed a shower, but no such luck. She continued to stare up at him, expecting some sort of chat Teddy was not in the mood for.

 

This was the problem with the head bathrooms. While they were spacious, with floors that were always magically warm, showers that were always instantly steamy, and bath scents that were never too cloying, they also came with daily run-ins with Laura Cringle.

 

He should have just used the Quidditch training room showers. One of the Weasleys was always willing to let him in, and he was pretty sure Laura had never stepped foot within twenty feet of the quidditch pitch.

 

“Right, so I’ll just…” he tried again.

 

“Listen, Ted,” Laura stepped closer, stopping him with a hand on his arm. He stared. He wasn’t kidding about needing a shower; he’d been helping Hagrid dig a new pumpkin patch. He was covered in sweat and dirt. Laura seemed to realize this too, as soon as she touched him. Teddy saw her face freeze. He watched as her expression set in a look of determination and he inwardly sighed as she resolved to ignore it and carry on. Her hand stayed where it was.

 

“Ted. I just love the sound of that. So grown up. So mature.” She batted her eyelashes.

 

“Yes, that was the idea…”

 

“Then again, Teddy…I mean that just makes you want to _squeeze_ …”

 

“Right, Laura,” Teddy slipped out of her grasp hastily. She lost her grip on his arm, throwing her off balance, giving him just enough room to slip through the doorway.

 

“I’ve got to be going. Er…good chat.”

 

“Okay! It was good to bump into you! Maybe…” The door swung shut. Teddy winced.

But it was worth it, for the peace of the bathroom. Quickly he worked up the biggest cloud of steam he could manage, scented with jasmine and something earthier, softly colored pastels enveloping him.

 

It was a long time, before he could pull himself from the shower. He had a lot of things to consider, plans to make. Plans he’d been working on for the better part of four years, plans that had suddenly, with a visit from his godfather, seemed within reach, seemed achievable, maybe even inevitable…

 

The steam was so thick by the time he finally turned off the faucets, he could barely see. The mirrors in the antechamber looked almost opaque.

 

Except one.

 

Teddy moved closer, peering through the clouds of soft pink and green and blue that drifted by. There was something on the mirror, something…something written there.

 

Teddy read the words, lips moving silently, as he tried to figure out how they were possible.

 

But that was the problem. They weren’t.

  

* * *

 

 

**Fred**

**11:48pm**

 

“Fred…”

 

The sound was barely more than a whimper in the throat as Fred continued to trail his kisses along the soft skin there.

 

“Freddy…fred…”

 

He kissed Samira just below her earlobe and she sighed, adjusting. He pushed her deeper into the soft cushions of the couch in the Gryffindor common room. The fireplace beside them cast its warmth over them both.

 

“Freddy…” she said again as he moved to unbutton her school shirt. Focused on the collar, he didn’t even hear her until she said, “Seriously, Fred…”

 

He pulled back, catching his breath, “Are you okay?”

 

But Samira wasn’t paying attention to him. Any other time he might have been a little offended by that, as he was currently doing some of his best work, but her eyes were fixed on the fire with such an odd expression on her face that he immediately sat all the way back from her across the couch.

 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “did I do something…?”

 

“No,” she glanced at him quickly, before turning back to the fireplace, her alarm growing, “I think…I think someone was watching us.”

 

“What?”

 

“I think someone was watching us in the fireplace.” Samira repeated, staring fixedly at the flames.

 

“Listen,” Fred started cautiously, “if you want to stop, that’s okay, you can just…”

 

“No, Fred, seriously,” She shook her head and grabbed his shirt collar, yanking him around to stare into the fireplace grate too. There was nothing there. Only the common room fire, crackling merrily.

 

“Samira…”

 

“Look!” She pointed. Fred’s head turned.

 

There, sitting innocently in the flames, was a human head.

 

“AAARGH!”

 

“Shhh, you’ll wake the whole house!” Samira whisper-screamed at him as he scrambled up and over the back of the couch.

 

The head chuckled, “Guess you guys have never gotten a floo call before.”

 

“Who are you?” Fred asked, clutching a cushion for dear life.

 

“That’s not important.”

 

“So, then, just tell me.” Fred said, reasonably.

 

The head in the fireplace shook slightly, back and forth, “No, I mean, I’m not important.”

 

Fred softened his clutch on the pillow, “I’m sure that’s not true.”

 

The talking head cocked, a startled smile appearing on his face. “Thank you.” He said, sounding genuine and surprised.

 

“Your welcome.” Fred returned.

 

“No really,” The talking head said warmly, “that’s a really cool thing for you to say.”

 

“No problem, mate.” Fred returned his smile, “And listen, I’m not just saying it. I’m sure you’re very important to someone. Your probably—”

 

“ _Why_ were you watching us from the fireplace?” Samira cut in. Both men looked at her as if they’d forgotten she was there.

 

“I wasn’t watching you,” The talking head replied, looking oddly hurt. He turned to Fred, addressing him directly, “I swear I wasn’t _watching_ you, I was trying to figure out if you _were_ you…”

 

Samira’s face twisted, her lips pursed and her nose scrunched, “Are you like…one of those creepy celebrity stalkers?”

 

“No, I just have a message for one Fred Weasley.”

 

Fred and Samira exchanged a look. Samira still looked wary. Fred noticed her surreptitiously wrapping her hand around a fireplace poker, keeping a sideways eye on the man’s head, floating above the coals. Fred thought he’d better end the conversation quickly.

 

“Alright, what’s this message then?”

          

He looked at them both quite gravely, and then, solemnly intoned the single strangest rhyme Fred had ever heard.

 

> “ _Tomb of marble_
> 
> _Room of glass_
> 
> _Where the future_
> 
> _Came to pass_
> 
> _Learn it well_
> 
> _Search it right_
> 
> _I’ll expect your answer_
> 
> _By firstlight…_ ”

 

The fire flickered strangley over the common room walls. The flames seemed to change the features of the man who spoke so slowly he seemed more sinister a messenger. Fred listened to the words he spoke in his gravely tone and was on the point of asking…he wasn’t even sure: whose words they really were? What they were supposed to mean? He didn’t get the chance to ask any questions at all. By the time the man had finished he pulled his head out of the fire immediately, without a goodbye, and left them both to stare at the ashes.

 

“What did that mean?” Samira asked Fred suspiciously.

 

Fred shook his head, “I have no idea.”


End file.
